Santa
by MoulinP
Summary: This is my Christmas story from a few years ago, posted on other sides but not in this form. Compiled and revised


"Well that's Wyoming finished," Al Ron, the Chief Elf said, handing a clipboard to his boss. Santa Claus sat in a big, comfy chair in the middle of the … cave? Workshop? Factory? Hideout? No, Grotto. All around scurrying elves carried brightly wrapped parcels. They deposited them in one of the many sacks that stood round the perimeter of the … er grotto.

"All stowed away safely?" Santa asked, glancing at the list.

"Yes boss. Periwinkle is just putting the last of the Wyoming sacks on the sleigh now."

"Good." Santa scrawled a signature on the bottom of the clipboard and then held it out to Al Ron. "We're a little behind this year. Now where's next? Montana?"

"Wait!" As they looked up the newest and youngest Elf puffed up. He waved a clipboard. "Wait! We haven't finished Wyoming yet!"

"What's this, Legolost?" Santa asked. Legolost came to a halt by his side, gasping for breath.

The youngest elf, whose name sounded like the unfortunate incident when all the small, brightly coloured building bricks went astray one year, bent over to catch his breath. He hadn't forgiven his parents for saddling him with that moniker.

Straightening up, he held out a clipboard with a wavering hand.

"It's … the Wyoming Maybe list, sir!"

"Wyoming Maybe list?" Santa frowned, looking at what was in front of him.

"Yessir!"

Legolost ignored the dark glowers Al Ron was giving him. Packing the sleigh was behind schedule and they simply couldn't afford to be late. He had been hoping they could make up the time with the Montana list. This interruption was holding them up.

"Explain, young Elf," Santa growled.

"You asked me to draw up a list of Wyoming people who maybe deserved presents, sir. So I did."

"When did I ask you this?"

Legolost put his fingers on his lips as he thought. "Um … July."

Santa rubbed his beard. "And it's taken you this long?" He smiled at the red-faced young Elf.

"Well I had to do research sir. Took a while."

"Legolost what have you done?" Al Ron asked, slowly. He glanced at Santa. He was pretty sure he wasn't going to like the answer.

Legolost gulped. "I went out into the big wide world sir." Astonished looks from Santa and Al Ron. "I … went undercover," he added, quietly.

"Undercover?" Santa exploded. "WITH THOSE EARS?"

Legolost blushed. He was cursed with having the longest and pointiest ears of all Santa's working elves.

"I wore a woolly hat, sir. Y'know like Spock in Star Trek."

Double huhs?

"Never mind," Santa muttered and looked at the clipboard. He read it with a sigh. "The Devil's Hole Gang! They don't deserve presents!"

"You might not think so … at first glance but … once you get to know them …"

"Get to know them! How did you get to know them?"

Legolost gulped and he looked down at his feet, the toe of his soft boot making a circle on the floor. "Well I … sorta … joined the Gang."

"Joined the Gang!"

Santa was sitting on the edge of his chair now, hands gripping the arms. Al Ron took a step back. If he wasn't mistaken Santa was going to blow!

"Just … just for a little while. I … I didn't go on any jobs sir!" Legolost looked wide-eyed at his bosses.

Santa growled and settled back in his chair. Al Ron and Legolost both took deep breaths. Crisis averted. Santa looked at the list again.

Legolost, feeling braver, stood next to Santa.

"I've written down each name, a list of their bad things and next to it a list of their good things. Then at the bottom there's my recommendation and my suggestion for an appropriate gift."

Legolost stood back, smiling smugly. _(Remind you of anyone?)_

Al Ron shook his head, puffed and walked away. Santa was on his own with this one. Santa gave the retreating Head Elf a flicker of irritation and looked back at Smug Elf.

"Let's have a look shall we?" Santa looked back at the list. "Hank Williams? Isn't he a singer? I'm pretty sure I've have one of his albums around here somewhere."

"No sir. I mean yes sir but he's not that one. This one is a distant relative. I think."

"Josiah Wedgewood?" Santa's eyes were out on stalks. "The pottery manufacturer?"

"No sir just a coincidence. This one the Gang call Preacher. He dresses all in black and quotes from the bible a lot. He was formerly a man of the cloth sir."

"Demarcus Loboda."

"Lobo. Guess it's easier to say." Legolost shrugged.

"Tate Markham."

"He's fairly new," Legolost qualified. "Only been on a couple of jobs. As lookout."

"Henry Maxwell Jenkins." Santa looked up frowning. "I've heard of him."

"Yes sir. Meets a sticky end in about three years' time. He deserves a good Christmas. Hasn't got many left."

Santa looked doubtful and returned to the list.

"Wheat Carlson. Hmmm. The verdict is still out on him, Legolost."

"But look sir." Legolost tapped the list furiously. "See right here. He brings to justice the man who masqueraded as Hannibal Heyes. As a result that innocent fella who told everybody he was Kid Curry was off the hook for murder."

Santa nodded but still looked doubtful.

"Kyle Murtry." Santa smiled and nodded. "Yes he's a good man. Misguided but a good man nonetheless."

Santa turned the page. "Ah now we're getting to it. Kid Curry. Now really Legolost he's …"

"Yes sir I know," Legolost said, excitedly. "But the little old lady from Boston gives the notice of amnesty to him. As a result, HE'S the one who persuades Hannibal Heyes they should try for amnesty. If it wasn't for him …"

"Okay, okay Legolost I see where you're coming from."

Legolost stopped hopping from foot to foot and smiled.

"But now this next one. Hannibal Heyes. Now you can't tell me that he deserves a present from Santa Claus. Why he's … ." Santa looked at the young elf at his side critically. "Reminds me a little of you actually," he mused.

"But sir he pulled off the miracle at Santa Marta. If it wasn't for him, Kid Curry would be shot for a murder he didn't commit. Now sir you can't tell me you condone an innocent man going to his death. If so, I'm not sure I wanna work for you anymore." Legolost drew himself up.

"Alright! Legolost you've made your point. They all deserve presents." Legolost beamed. "This is good work, but I'm afraid I can't deliver presents to Devil's Hole."

Legolost looked crestfallen. "Is it … do you … Santa they're not real bad men. They've just had some bad luck in life that's all and had to do the best they could under the circumstances they found themselves."

"Legolost," Santa smiled. "It's not that. You've convinced me. I can see you did thorough research and I agree with you about presents. It's just that I can't deliver them. You see Rudolf's GPS works off mobile phone masts and the coverage isn't too good in that part of Wyoming. I'm sorry." _(I know that's not exactly how GPS works but this is creative licence here.)_

Legolost nodded sadly and started to turn away. Suddenly he turned back, looked wide-eyed and excited.

"So if Rudolf's GPS could be upgraded … to ping off more satellites there wouldn't be any reason why you couldn't deliver presents would there?" he asked _(still sounding like someone we know)._

"No I guess not. But tomorrow is Christmas Eve, Legolost." Santa shook his head sadly. "We couldn't get Rudolf's GPS upgraded in time."

Instead of seeing the expected look of begrudging disappointment on the young Elf's face, there was a big beam.

"Don't worry Santa. I've got a Big River First account. They do free same day delivery! Oh, and I'll contact NORAD, tell 'em to make sure they keep a constant lock when they're tracking you, Santa. You won't get lost."

Legolost was about to dash off but Santa called him back.

"Now hold on, young Elf. Even if you can get Rudolf's GPS upgraded in time, it's still not that simple. This is an outlaw Gang. They have men on watch all the time. I doubt if they'll have a tree and I'll never get down one of the those potbelly stove chimneys. It just won't work, Legolost."

"Well," Legolost walked back slowly, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. _(Hmm? Can't think WHO it is he reminds me of.)_ "The tree won't be a problem, Santa."

"How can you be so sure?" Santa growled suspiciously.

Legolost flushed. "I did a deal with … ." He licked his lips nervously. "Tinkerbell. She gave me a handful of … fairy dust and I …" Legolost was back to drawing circles on the floor with his toe. "Sprinkled some on Kid Curry when he wasn't looking. Planting the seed so to speak about the tree."

"Legolost! What were you told in basic training? I will NOT have my elves associating with that … hussy!"

Santa was on his feet now. All scurrying stopped and all elf eyes turned to stare. Santa never got out of his chair until the sleigh was fully loaded. This was unprecedented. Something momentous was happening.

"But I didn't associate, Santa. Honest," Legolost cried. "She was going to sprinkle some on him anyway." He gulped. "She put an ad in Magic Monthly. She needed a carrier. For the fairy dust and the sprinkling. I volunteered."

Santa loomed close to Legolost. "I'm sure she didn't want him sprinkled with fairy dust just so he would put up a tree." Santa was menacing and the young elf gulped and took a step back.

"No sir. She wanted the fairy dusting for something altogether undesirable and unwholesome. I can't say anymore 'cos we're PG but I think you get my meaning." He winked. "I saved Kid Curry from that sir! That's gotta be good hasn't it?" _(Does fairy dust cling to silver tongues?)_

Santa growled and settled back into his chair. His eyes flicked around the … grotto. "What are you all standing about for? You've got work to do!"

Scurrying began again in earnest. Santa turned back to Legolost. "Okay, let's assume they'll be a tree," he sighed, rubbing his eyes wearily. He was getting too old for this. "I can see you've got this all planned out Legolost. So what about the guards? And the pot-belly stove?" He jiggled his corpulent stomach. "This is the kicker."

ASJASJASJASJ

Hannibal Heyes was in the leader's cabin, washing up after lunch, when he heard a strange sound. He pushed back the kitchen curtain and peered out into the winter wonderland that was the yard of Devil's Hole. He wiped a circle clear in the steamed up window and looked again. Across the yard, several gang members appeared on the porch of the bunkhouse. They had also heard the strange noise.

Heyes grabbed his blue/grey jacket and hat and went outside.

"What's going on? What's that noise?" he demanded as he walked across the yard – well waded across the yard. The snow was several feet deep in places – even over his boots at one point. He wasn't happy about that. His toes even less so.

"Sounds like someone choppin' down a tree," Wheat said, trying not to laugh at his struggling boss, although he did reach out to haul Heyes out of a snowdrift.

Heyes puffed as he stomped his feet on the bunkhouse porch.

"Who is it? We've got enough wood to keep the fires of Hades alight for years as it is!" Heyes stood hands on hips.

"Dunno." Wheat turned and looked back at the assembly behind him, mentally ticking off names as he glanced round. "Er Kyle is missing. And …" He turned back to Heyes. "The Kid."

ASJASJASJASJ

The Kid struggled through the door of the bunkhouse with a large fir tree. Kyle brought up the rear.

"Sheesh! Kid, you coulda got one without snow on it!" Heyes cried, jumping back as the branches pinged off the doorway and showered him with the white stuff. Cold white stuff. "Awh!" Some went down his back and he wriggled furiously.

"But Heyes it so purty!" Kyle grinned.

Heyes closed his eyes and shook his head.

"C'mon fellas help stand it up," the Kid said.

Ten minutes of puffing, sweating, and cursing later, the Devil's Hole bunkhouse was the proud owner of a Christmas tree. Er probably more correctly, a Christmas tree was the proud owner of a bunkhouse.

"It's a bit big, Kid," Lobo said, scratching his head.

"Yeah, I shoulda chopped it higher up," the Kid admitted.

"Several feet higher up!" Heyes said, hands on hips. He gazed with incredulity at the huge tree, wedged between the ceiling and the floor, the top bent over. It's lower branches seem to consume all the available floor space. "Alright, now it's here, what do we do with it?"

"Decorate it," grinned Kyle. "Don't ya know nothin' 'bout Christmas, Heyes?"

Heyes gave him a look. "With what?" he asked patiently.

"Well …"

"Er …"

"Ah …"

"Um …"

"Baubles!" Wheat cleared his throat in embarrassment when all eyes turned on him. "That's what ya do. Ya hang baubles on the branches."

"Baubles," Heyes repeated, glaring at the big man. "And where do we get … baubles?" he asked through gritted teeth.

Heyes watched as Wheat did some thinking on that question. Behind him, the Kid rummaged around in a bag.

"Will these do?" he asked, tipping the bag's contents onto the floor. All leaned in to see what he'd spilled.

"Where did you get those?" Heyes squeaked, several octaves higher than his normal baritone was.

"Remember, Leggy? He left 'em behind," the Kid grinned. "Jus' the trick huh?" he said, holding up a bauble.

Heyes groaned, waved a hand in disgust and stalked out.

"Where you going? Ain't ya gonna help?" the Kid, demanded.

"NO! I've got washing up to finish!" With that, the door slammed on the blue/grey coated man. The Kid shrugged as he turned to the others who were eagerly picking decorations from the pile on the floor.

ASJASJASJASJ

It was early on Christmas Eve morning when Heyes stepped into the bunkhouse. All it's regular occupants were still abed, making the usual sounds sleeping outlaws make – snoring, moaning, muttering, scratching and … (well, _you get the picture)_. Heyes shook his head and crossed to the unused fireplace. The potbelly stove that warmed the building was on a different wall.

Heyes glanced at the tree, now resplendent with baubles, tinsel, odd socks and a colourful scarf he remember Kyle wearing. On the top perched an angel. She looked a little worse for wear judging by the angle she listed. Heyes tilted his head at the same angle. She did look happy though. He looked further round the bunkhouse. Between the beams hung paper chains and … . What was that? He peered closer at the sprig of green foliage with white berries. Mistletoe! He puffed. He would definitely have to keep his wits about him tomorrow. Alert for anyone puckering in his direction. He rolled his eyes and shook his head.

Turning back to the fireplace, he rested one hand on the mantelpiece and ducked his head up the chimney. Yep, just as he thought, blocked. He nodded tight-lipped. Then grinning mischievously, he looked round. They were all asleep. Now wouldn't it be nice if they woke to a freshly swept chimney? One in which they could have a roaring fire on Christmas Day. Of course, they would be very grateful if he did that for them. Sort of a Christmas present. Licking his lips and chuckling gently he left.

Back a short time later with chimney sweeping rods and brush. He knew when he bought them for his pinchbeck experiment they would come in handy. Pushing back his hat, he settled on his heels in front of the fireplace as he assembled the rods. With a further grin, he pushed the brush up and then pushed harder with a grunt. Behind him, there were sounds of stirring. With a final push he was through, gave the rods a tug and … WHOMP!

"Ah!" _(You might have already spotted the flaw in Heyes' plan.)_

"Heyes? Is that you Heyes?" Kyle rubbed his eyes, sleepily.

"Yeah, it's me." Heyes said, keeping his back to the bunks.

"What ya doing, Heyes?" Lobo asked.

"Er well I er … ." He pursed his lips, grimaced when they tasted of soot, and nodded. He puffed. "Sweeping the chimney," he muttered. He swivelled round, bracing himself for the laugher. And he wasn't disappointed. The bunkhouse howled.

A few moments later, he was wading back to the leader's cabin through a fresh snowfall. The Kid stood on the porch and saw him coming. He grinned and folded his arms as the creature from the black lagoon came towards him. It gave him a look.

"Not a word, Kid. Not one word!"

As the door slammed, the Kid doubled up with laughter.

ASJASJASJASJ

'Twas the night before Christmas etc., it was snowing heavily. Hannibal Heyes pushed back his hat and looked at the men who were just about to go on guard.

"Fellas I don't think anyone will be fool enough to come a-raiding on a night like this. I think we'll be safe enough without a guard tonight. Get yourselves back in the bunkhouse."

The Kid slapped Heyes on the shoulder as the Hank and Tate walked away gratefully.

"Heyes, so it's true, ya do have a heart?"

"Yeah, Kid. Just don't spread it around, huh?"

ASJASJASJASJ

It was a scruffy little man in an unsavoury looking union suit who make the discovery. He intended to start the coffee but on the way, he almost tripped over something underneath the tree. He blinked.

There were several presents under the tree. They hadn't been there last night. He was sure of it. He sorted through them, wondering first who had put them there, then who they were from and lastly was there one for him.

He went back to the one he had first discovered. He gave it a feel. He had no idea what could be wrapped in the bright festive paper. A nametag hung off one end. He didn't read too good but sounding off the letters and moving his lips, he made out – Wheat. A Christmas present for Wheat.

Kyle smiled. His partner would like that. He trotted over to Wheat's bunk and gave his arm a prod.

Wheat growled and shook him off, turning over.

"Wheat."

"Go 'way."

"But Wheat, look!"

Wheat growled. Last night had been a late one. A considerable amount of alcohol had been consumed, a lot of it by him. He was feeling just a mite fragile this morning. Kyle prodding and this was plain uncalled for, telling him to look when his eyes had no intention of opening.

"Kyle! So help me I'm gonna shoot ya!"

"Wheat ya got a Christmas present. We's all got Christmas presents."

One of Wheat's eyes made a valiant effort, flicking open to stare unblinking at Kyle. Something waved in front of him, which he couldn't focus on. He grabbed the waving arm, held it steady and then snatched the waved thing. He turned it over and inspected it.

"Hmmm." He read the label. Yep it said Wheat Carlson on it. He looked at Kyle's grinning face. "Kyle ya shouldn'ta."

"I didn't. We's all got one. Even Heyes and the Kid I reckon."

By now, the conversation had roused the rest of the bunkhouse. Tate dropped out of the top bunk with a thud and rubbing his eyes, stumbled to the tree. Henry was behind him.

"Hey! I got a Christmas present," Henry said in delight.

"Me too," said Tate.

Wheat decided leadership was called for now.

"Hold up boys we dunno where these came from."

"Do it matter?" Lobo asked, rummaging under the tree.

"Yeah, it matters. We all ought to be here when we opens 'em. Kyle get dressed. Go get Heyes and the Kid. Rest of ya, get some clothes on and leave them presents alone for now."

"Think I can guess what mine is," said Hank, eyeing the tell-tale wrapped present leaning against the tree.

"No guessing," Wheat roared and then wished he hadn't. "Get dressed. Preacher?"

A snore answered him. Wheat chortled. Not much woke Preacher. Not even the possibility of a present.

ASJASJASJASJ

Kyle entered the leader's cabin none too quietly. He was excited. Before he had left, he had found the one with his name on it. He was anxious to open it.

"Kyle!" Heyes growled as Kyle burst into his room.

"Presents, Heyes. We alls got presents!" The ever-present tobacco chewed furiously behind the big grin.

Heyes lay back on his elbows and blinked awake.

"Presents?"

"Yeah under the tree. One for each of us I reckon. C'mon Heyes. Wheat says we can't open 'em 'till you and the Kid get there."

Heyes raised his eyebrows. This might be just worth crawling out of a nice warm bed for and he threw back the covers.

"Go wake … him up." He waved a dismissive hand. "Gently!" he added. Too late. Kyle had gone. Heyes struggled into his pants, to the irate sounds coming from the Kid's room. He winced at the "I'll shoot ya Kyle when I get hold of ya" noises. Heyes grinned as Kyle made a bolt for the outside door.

Heyes and the Kid met in the main room.

"It true?" a bleary-eyed Kid asked.

Heyes shrugged. "Dunno. Let's go find out."

When the two leaders got there, the bunkhouse was a more wholesome place than earlier. The outlaws were dressed for one. All except Preacher who still snored, blissfully unaware.

"What's this 'bout presents?" Heyes asked, stripping off his gloves to receive a coffee.

"Look under the tree!" Kyle was bouncing excitedly.

Heyes looked with pursed lips and nodded. "Yep they sure do look like presents to me." He did a double take when he caught the Kid looking at him with a smirk. "Don't look at me!"

"Reckon you oughta be Santa Claus, Heyes," Lobo grinned and received an extra present - the look.

"Yeah c'mon Heyes. You's our leader. You oughta give out the presents. Staff morale an' all that," said Wheat.

He received the look as well.

"C'mon Heyes," the chorus went up.

Heyes rolled his eyes and shuddered. Bowing to popular consent, he picked up the most obvious. He read the tag.

"Hank."

Hank grinned. He didn't really need to tear off the paper. It was obvious it was a guitar. However, his eyes were out on stalks when he saw it.

"Woo eee!" He gave it a strum. "Needs tuning," he declared as Heyes reached for the next present.

"Preacher."

Heyes looked across at the slumbering one and handed it to Wheat.

"Give that to him when he wakes up will you?"

Next.

"Henry."

It was a small parcel but Henry didn't seem to mind.

"Hey, I always wanted one of these. It's got my initials on an' everything. It fits!"

Henry proudly showed off the Mexican inspired gold ring, in the shape of a snake.

There was oos and arrs from the festive folk.

Then it was Lobo's turn to unwrap a parcel. His turned out to be a doctor's bag, stuffed full of medical equipment.

"Hey, that's real neat. Everything I need all in one place." He seemed delighted and so did the rest of the Gang.

Heyes picked up the next parcel.

"Wheat."

Wheat took a moment then chortled.

"What ya got Wheat?" Kyle was impatient to know.

Wheat turned the small box round so all could see the lettering. It read Acme Moustache Pampering Kit.

As the laughing died away, Heyes picked up the next.

"Kyle."

Kyle tore off the paper and frowned. He held up something elliptically shaped, lavender coloured, and waxy. There was a hole at one end with a soft rope threaded through it.

"What's this?"

"SOAP!" they all yelled.

"An' here's the instructions," Wheat hooted, handing Kyle a piece of paper.

Good egg that he was, Kyle grinned and sniffed. "I'm sure gonna smell nice."

Heyes rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I think that was the idea," he muttered.

Next.

"Kid."

Heyes handed over a largish box.

The Kid gave it a suspicious shake, before ripping off the paper.

"Oh!" he sounded surprised.

Heyes leaned over to see and frowned.

"A gun polishing machine? Does one of them even exist?" _(I don't know either.)_

"Does now," the Kid grinned.

Heyes turned to pick up the last present under the tree, checked that the nametag said Heyes and grinned. He could tell it was a book without opening it.

"One Hundred Greatest Train Robberies," he read. "Boys … I bet there's loads of ideas in here!" He was excited.

Groans went up all around.

And that just leaves Preacher. When he finally awoke, he unwrapped a Wedgewood porcelain figure of Mary.

ASJASJASJASJ

An exhausted Santa Claus shuffled into his Grotto, red coat slung over his shoulder. He collapsed into his big, comfy chair and gratefully accepted the mug of tea the Chief Elf handed him.

"That was a long night, Al Ron," he sighed. "Only just made it I think," he added, looking out of the window and seeing the sun rising.

"All done for another year, sir," Al Ron smiled and then frowned as he noticed the youngest and newest Elf hovering behind a pot plant. "Stop lurking Legolost," he snapped.

Legolost, red faced that he was caught, walked over.

"What is it, Legolost?" Santa asked.

"Just wondering if the delivery to the Devil's Hole Gang went okay?" he asked, quietly.

Santa took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Yes. They had a tree. A rather large one. It took over the whole building. Didn't leave much room to tiptoe about."

"Did you get down the chimney sir? You didn't have to squeeze through one of those pot-belly stove flues did you?"

"No. Fortunately not. Somebody had swept the main chimney. That was a pleasant surprise."

"And nobody saw you sir?"

"No guards. All in all, it was an easy delivery. Wish all of 'em were like that."

"And all the Gang had a present?"

"Yes Legolost they all had a present. Why are you so interested in the Devil's Hole Gang? They're not the most savoury group of men, judging by the state of their bunkhouse. Hope I haven't caught something nasty."

Legolost looked down at his feet, the toe of his soft boot making a circle on the floor. "Well I got to know them real well when I was a member of their Gang."

Santa turned in his seat and looked incredulously at the young elf. Legolost looked shame-faced.

"Yes Legolost," Santa said slowly. Al Ron stepped back, not wanting to be caught up in any fall out. "Tell me more about how you joined the Gang?"

"Well sir. It seemed the only way to find out about them sir," he confessed, quietly.

Santa looked at Al Ron. "Did you know about this?" he snapped in the Chief Elf's direction.

Al Ron shook his head furiously. "No sir."

"WELL YOU SHOULD HAVE DONE!" Santa roared. He turned back to Legolost. "You showed real initiative Legolost. You'll go far."

Legolost beamed.

"As for you … what's the point of having a Chief Elf if he's not aware of what his team are up to? Get outta my sight! Don't come back until April!"

Al Ron sidled away, head down.

Santa heaved himself out of his chair. Legolost took a step back, thinking he was in trouble. Instead, Santa slipped an arm round the young elf's shoulders.

"So tell me Legolost what are your plans for the off season? I usually rent a villa in the Caribbean. Care to join me this year?"

Christmas Night saw a lethargic Heyes and Kid, settled in front of the fire in the leader's cabin, feet sharing a pouffe.

"Heyes, just between us two. Did you get the presents?"

Heyes shook his head. "Nope. Did you?"

The Kid shook his head.

"Well whoever did, it topped off a nice day." Whoever the Outlaw Appreciation Society is … ." He held out his glass aloft. The Kid followed suit.

"Merry Christmas!" they chorused.


End file.
